The room was moderately lit with red velvet curtains at each corner and an ornate table at one end. On it stood a single candle, an open book, a large globe with a brass mounting and a half-naked kneeling sorority pledge.

Out of the seven women in the room, four were collegians and three were pledges. The older girls, still known as actives in the backwater sorority of Abraham Heights, were immaculately dressed in skirts and blazers with Greek letters on the breast pocket.

Their leader Catherine Marks was a polished brunette with a cascade of hair held in place with a white broad hairband that framed her heart-shaped face. In one hand she held a long thin paddle, polished to a sheen from years of use on the proffered bare bottoms of a thousand rueful pledges.

Catherine smirked as she caught Amy Sothern’s eye as she tested the paddle for its weight.

Amy was a cool blonde with family connections that went all the way to Boston. Not that that had saved her bottom back in her pledge days. Just a year before she had been her bending over in the middle of this very room with her behind displayed much as the hapless sandy-haired Tammy Jacob was now.

“Are we ready for the next question? That last one was far too easy,” Davina Davis drawled from a seat next to the red-headed Helen Hart.

Davina was another failed ivy-leaguer whose family had stumped up the fees for the more motivating Abraham Heights University. Her full bee-stung lips formed a pout as she cast her eye over Tammy’s bared bottom.

“Okay, okay, I’m just warming up,” Amy said defensively as she turned back to the globe on the table in front of her.

Next to the large ornate sphere the pledge on her knees and elbows had her nose just inches from the surface of the globe. It was a posture that elevated her uncovered bottom to an obscene effect as the T-shirts slipped into the small of her back. In fact all three pledges had to contend with wearing nothing more than oversized gift shirts that barely reached their thigh-tops. When they were standing upright that was. When they were bent over not much was covered at all.

“Speaking of warming-up, poor Tammy here must be getting cold waiting for you to ask another question,” Catherine chuckled, “You do like geography questions don’t you Tammy?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Tammy squeaked.

“Do you like geography Anna?” Catherine asked the remaining pledge who stood with her nose in the corner to the left of the table.

Anna was of Chinese descent and had been born in Abraham Heights just a mile from this very room. Corner time followed by a spanking held no novelty to her. Even now she faced the indignity of the corner with her small neat bottom polished to a cherry sheen peeking out from under the hem of her raised shirt. It had been the result of seven out of 12 possible swats from her previous test. If the rumours were true she faced at least another two rounds before the actives were satisfied enough to release her for further ordeals.

“Not so much,” she muttered tartly.

“What was that?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed.

“No Ma’am,” Anna said hastily, “I don’t care for geography.”

“Get on with it can’t you?” Helen said wearily, “We have another score of pledges to test.”

“Okay, okay,” Amy said in irritation, “Pledge, spin that globe.”

The pledge on her knees on the table extended a clumsy tongue and attempt to spin the globe. For a moment her wet appendage slipped on the cool tin surface and then the great ball began to turn.

“That will do Charlie,” Amy said to the girl. And then to the room she said, “Mongolia. What is its capital?”

“Ulan Bator,” Tammy said without hesitation.

Catherine sighed in frustration.

“Population of Mongolia?” Amy asked quickly.

“Eh…” Tammy wailed.

“Wrong answer,” Catherine said with glee and let the paddle land with a heavy splat across the girl’s bare bottom.

Tammy gasped and rocked her behind to shake out the sudden sting.

“Okay spin the globe again Charlie,” Amy said cheerfully.

Tammy didn’t know the capital of Wales, the largest country in Africa or on what line of latitude Berlin stood. The paddle was unmerciful in expressing its disapproval.

Charlie fared little better. Geography had never been her strong suit and apart from a question about Paris she got all her answers wrong. Helen was appalled and awarded Charlie’s sore red bottom an extra four swats for her ignorance.

“Thank you Ma’am, may I have another?” Charlie groaned, a tear spilling down her face.

The swat came in hard causing the girl to lurch forward in a dangerously sloppy way.

“Careful,” Helen warned.

Getting out of position was a paddling offence and then she would be made to sit the whole test again.

“Thank you Ma’am, may I have another?” Charlie said again through gritted teeth.

“Certainly,” Helen said obliging her.

Anna was better much better and Amy had to resort to asking some creative questions to catch her out

“Is Han Sin east or west of Beijing?” she asked.

“Where?” Anna asked.

The paddle landed across her shiny red bottom in triumph.

“It’s one of your lot, surely you know,” Amy giggled.

Catherine frowned and shot her friend an angry glance so that Amy blushed.

“I only meant…” she stuttered.

“You are on a warning,” Catherine scolded her; “I mean it.”

“Sorry,” a mortified Amy replied.

“Anna forgives her, don’t you Anna?” Davina said gently as she patted the Asian girl’s bottom with the paddle.

“Oh yes Ma’am,” Anna said sourly, “But I have never heard of… what was it?”

Amy couldn’t remember what name she had made up but Davina saved her by bringing the paddle down hard across Anna’s bottom yet again.

“No cheek now,” Davina chirruped.

It didn’t take long to find reasons to polish Anna’s behind a little more and she was soon back in the corner while Tammy again took up the position.

Half an hour later three moist-eyed pledges emerged from the room taking slow careful steps into the hall. The corridor was already lined down both sides by nervous girls all dressed in nothing but T-shirts. Most stood down the right hand side facing out as they waited their turn.

On the other side of the corridor facing the wall displaying a row of angry red bare bottoms was another line of miserable pledges who had already been tested. It was this line that Tammy, Anna and Charlie joined. Adding their own polished red bottoms to the penitent display.

“Next three,” Helen Hart called out.

*
All across the campus sorority pledges were nursing their sore bottoms face down on their beds and not a fridge in halls had any ice left. On the other hand there were plenty of unused chairs. For those who lived in the likes of Carlton House with uncompromising housemothers like Mrs Main, early to bed had been the only thinkable option.

But on the darkening campus in the first days of autumn not all had yet retired. The more senior girls had gathered to discuss their day and play a few hands of cards.

Five-handed bridge was an old tradition at the sorority. It was both at once more dangerous and more fun than the more usual four-handed bridge. It was a game with a couple of hazards.

Initially one player always sat out of the bidding round while her fellows played a hand. After one round one of the losing players left the table and the remaining players changed partners so that only one losing player remained at the table.
This was where it got both interesting and dangerous. Once a player had participated in two losing rounds then her bottom was in jeopardy, but everybody had to play at least two rounds before any forfeits were paid.
The player who had lost most then received three swats on the bare from the player who had lost least. Furthermore she was not allowed to get dressed until the game was over.

To make matters worse for the second round of forfeits the penalty was six rising by three each time for a potentially unlimited number of swats. The game kept actives on their toes; usually literally and after an ambitious game, sisters were sometimes left unable to sit down for a week.

“There were a lot of smart-Alecs among this new intake,” Davina Davis said imperiously as she studied the cards.

“My paddle is still warm,” Catherine Marks sighed.

She held a good hand and Davina was an effective partner. Useful if she wanted to keep a clean sheet for the game. Her eyes flicked to the paddle on the chair; a trusty heirloom made from thin springy maple infused with decades of delicate oils from polishing sorority girl’s bare bottoms. It was a true symbol of their sisterhood.

“Do I have to stand here like this?” Amy Sothern said wearily.

The girl was dressed only in her sweat top and bent over with her hands on her naked thighs. Her neat round bottom domed pertly from under the hem of the Greek-lettered marl sportswear, already stained red from a recent encounter with Catherine’s paddle.

“If I we win this round then Helen is up for swats and you can sit down,” Catherine said drily. “If not, I am afraid you have another round coming.”

The phrase ‘sit-down’ was not an inviting one just then, Amy thought ruefully, but she would bet her bottom that Catherine and Davina would win this rubber. From the apprehensive look on Helen’s face, Amy guessed that Helen surmised that too. Six was going to hurt.

“How many are you on now?” Melanie Crow asked pointedly.

She was only one defeat behind Helen and was facing Catherine next.

“Six isn’t it?” Davina smirked.

“I mean Amy?” Melanie pursed her lips at the sorry excuse for a trick she was holding.

“Oh Amy is on nine swats next,” Catherine said gleefully.

“Oh lord,” Amy whispered, her back beginning to hurt from the awkward posture.

“You could always bail and go to the corner,” Davina said casually, “But I warn you I am hoping to play for a good while yet and you may be there quite some time.”

“Can’t bail until you are on 12s,” Helen sighed with genuine regret.

Why did she ever think she would get the better of Catherine or Davina? Still holding position Amy breathed gently through her open mouth and contemplated getting to 12. She had already had a total of nine swats. Another nine and then 12 would total 30 swats and Catherine, if Davina didn’t overtake her, would not stint. Ouchie, she thought ruefully.

Worst still, pride would not let her bail out at a mere 12. Crying off before at least 18 would get her a rep as cry-baby. That’s 63 bottom blistering whacks she had to take before she could even hope of retiring from the game. Her only hope was that Helen and or Melanie continued to lose.

It seemed like an age that Amy stood bent over, but in the end the Catherine-Davina partnership prevailed.

“Alright Helen,” Catherine said gleefully. “Let’s see those cute buns front and centre.”

“You don’t have to enjoy it quite so much,” Helen wailed as she stood up.

Having already had three swats, Helen was naked from the waist down and as she got to her feet her striking but neatly trimmed red-triangle of hair peeped at the other players over the table.

“Assume the position,” everyone but Amy said in enthusiastic unison.

Helen sighed and walked around the table to bend over with her bare bottom facing the small audience. As she did so Amy gingerly sat down in her place, relieved not to be up for another nine swats.

Catherine took up her paddle as she swallowed a small smile and then moved behind her friend’s proffered behind.

“Standby for six stingers,” she chuckled.

The first caught Helen unawares and she shrieked and shot bolt upright.

“Do that again and I’ll give you extras,” Catherine said sharply in full pledge mistress mode. “Do it twice and I will have a word with your big sis about etiquette.”

Helen gulped and steeled herself for the next five swats. She knew what that would mean. At Abraham Heights a sorority sister was always under the authority of her Big Sister.

The next swat was like a brand of fire and Helen was certain that it could have been heard over in the next county. Nevertheless she held position with barely a grunt. Not an easy task when the oval patch of flames on her bottom went on burning.

Helen didn’t have time to contemplate this as in less than half a minute Catherine blasted the maple blade down again as hard as anyone ever had. This game was played hard.

“Umh,” Helen gasped through tightly clenched teeth.

“Nice colour,” someone said.

Catherine didn’t wait but added another almost immediately. She would genuinely hate to go to Rachel Wentworth, Helen’s Biggie, but she would. But her true aim here was to get to give a penalty. If Helen bailed soon enough then the swats would come around again faster for the others and maybe, just maybe, Catherine could get the beautiful butter-wouldn’t-melt Davina Davis under her paddle.

The fifth swat caused Helen to take half a step forward and grunt. As it was she was already panting like a buzz-saw. And six was her own little purgatory.

“Now hold that position for me,” Catherine said evilly, “I just love the way you push it up and out. It’s soooo cute.”

*
Dr Donna Warren had left the faculty meeting 15 minutes early, braving some puzzled stares as she did so. There was no way she was going to run afoul of Mrs Main again, not after last time. At 28 the smart raven-haired English lecturer had found herself in the bizarre and not to say embarrassing position of being assigned to freshman halls. What none of her colleagues knew or at least Donna prayed they didn’t know, was that Mrs Main the housemother cut her absolutely no slack as a faculty member and treated her the same as the students in her care. That is to say that one breach of the rules, one minute home passed curfew and Donna would find herself bare-bottomed across the housemother’s knee for a prolonged and very sound spanking.

Of course she had tried to find alternative accommodation, but for one reason or another none had appealed to her. Instead she had reasoned that if she obeyed the rules and got home on time then she could enjoy the rather curious goings-on at Carlton House without suffering. It was a mantra she oft repeated to herself and sometimes she almost believed it.

“You won’t get out that door Miss,” a voice said from behind and breaking into her thoughts.

Donna rattled the doors and found them locked before turning back to the short scruffy janitor who spoke.

“Oh, how do I get out?” she asked, some urgency creeping into her voice as she glanced at her watch. It was already 9.49pm.

“All the doors are alarmed after eight,” the man said with a yawn. “You have to go out the front.”

Donna gave the doors one final accusatory glance and then hurried back the way she had come.

It took another four minutes to reach the way out and by then she was late. It was a 10 minute brisk walk to Carlton House and even then she usually had to break into burst of light jogging. She now had seven minutes and she was on the wrong side of the building.

“Oh Donna,” someone called out.

Donna glanced back and saw one of her colleagues. The meeting she had ducked out of was over it would seem.

“I really have to go,” she said anxiously as she backed away.

“But…” the man began, but Donna Warren was already running.

*

The trees were dark silhouettes against the sky, with just a hint of yellow towards the west. Why does this keep happening to me? Donna was frantic. She was running at full tilt now.

Carlton House was up ahead, but annoyingly there was a fence from this approach and she wasted several moments doubling back to the side road some 100 yards down from where she had wanted to cross. Worse still the only door still open, the main door, was on the far side of the building: 9.58pm, said her watch.

“Shit,” she said as she put on another spurt.

This is so stupid, why can’t I…? Her mind raced as she turned the corner and made a break for the door. Her watch still said a minute to the hour and it was some relief that she crashed into the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, it’s still 9.59,” she wailed in rising panic.

Donna rechecked her watch and saw the hand touch the top of the hour. It doesn’t count she told herself, I was here on time. She hammered on the door. Finally someone came and the door opened.

“I was on time,” Donna said insistently before she even saw who was there.

“Keep your voice down,” the girl inside hissed.

Then even as Donna stepped into the hall her rescuer was gone.

The hapless Dr Warren looked up at the hall clock and saw that it was two minutes faster than her watch, which now read 10.05 in any case. Luckily there was no sign of Mrs Main the housemother, so Donna allowed herself a sigh. If I can just get to my room, she thought.

As precaution she took the first floor passage to the backstairs and made her way to her floor from the long way round, perhaps if she stripped to her underwear in a bathroom on her floor she might just… this was bat crazy shit, she realised angrily. I am 28 and a member of staff.

As she turned onto her corridor the door to her room was tantalisingly near. She paused at the bathroom and gazed longingly at the haven of her study. It was stupid to linger so she bailed on the ‘I was just going to the can’ stratagem and broke into a trot for home.

Of course the door was locked and her keys were still in her purse; another delay, she thought as she fumbled for them. Just then a door opened behind her and Donna froze.

It was a bleary-eyed freshman stumbling off to the bathroom and Donna relaxed. She had her own shower so the bathroom ploy was a weak one, especially when she still had her purse and outdoor coat on. No one would believe she had just been visiting the john.

Donna finally got the keys in the lock and they jangled along with her nerves for several protracted moments before the door swung inwards. Donna’s heart leapt as if she had fallen off a curb and she shot a glance up the hall certain that Mrs Main would be standing there.

Was it bravado or something else that made her pause? There was some excitement in the risk. Then at another sound her courage failed and she ducked into her room and firmly closed the door.

“This is so stupid,” she sighed as she flipped on the light.

But she was safe.

Dropping her purse and coat on the bed she contemplated a shower before some TV on her small portable black and white, but a sound from the hall distracted her. Once Mrs Main had knocked on her door having seen Donna creep in; the stop-out lecturer held her breath. But the only sound was the fire doors closing followed by the clunk of the bathroom door, no doubt a student. The final indoor curfew was a few minutes away and even then girls would risk a dash to the toilet sometimes, which was usually tolerated by the housemother. Donna collapsed on the bed and finally relaxed.

Then she saw the note on her desk. Even from across the room Donna could recognise Mrs Main’s handwriting. Her stomach lurched and she felt sick. The writing was large and clear. Visible even from where she sat were the words ‘come and see me at once.’

Donna snatched up the note and reread it. Over the fold Mrs Main had written ‘dropped by directly after curfew with a book left at the front desk for you. It seems you are still out. Mrs Main’

“Ooh, damn and blast,” Donna wailed.

*

All the way to Mrs Main’s room Donna thought about claiming she was in the bathroom, but somehow she knew the housemother would see through the lie in a trice. The woman could read the girls in her charge like open books. Girls, Donna thought bitterly, that’s all I am to her, just another naughty girl.

Dr Donna Warren, a member of the faculty, hated knocking and waiting for the words of doom to invite her inside. It was utterly ridiculous. She should just refuse. She should just tell Mrs Main where to get off… she remembered their earlier encounters and just how far that had got her.

As it was the door to the housemother’s room was ajar and Donna was able to push it gently open and tentatively call out, “Mrs Main?”

“Ah, another young lady who just will not learn,” Mrs Main said looking up from her desk, “Now the gang’s all here.”

Donna gulped. She could see two other girls standing to face the bare wall behind Mrs Main. It wasn’t the only thing that was bare. Both girls had removed their clothing from the waist and folded it neatly on a chair by the door.

Both freshmen had their hands on their heads, one a tall leggy blonde and the other a short Latino with an epic bottom on display. Both showed signs of a recent spanking, no doubt the sororities had been busy that day. Damn that meeting, Donna thought, I missed out on the fun.

She licked her lips and took in the bright pinkish red of the blonde’s bottom which had mottled purple tracery within the spanked zone especially on the right curve.

The Latino girl’s behind was a heavy russet and was still a little swollen around the tail end. Someone had really gone to town, but then with a bottom like that to work on who could blame them?

Donna shook herself. “Mrs Main eh… you’re busy I see. I’ll come back later. Tomorrow maybe?”

“You are not going to tell me you were in the toilet when I called are you?” Mrs Main asked pointedly.

“As a matter of fact…” Donna swallowed and saw the housemother’s eyebrow go up. “Eh… no Mrs Main, I was delayed at an important…”

“I so don’t care Dr Warren,” Mrs Main interrupted her. “You know the drill.”

The Latino girl made a half turn to look at Donna, no doubt surprised that a member of faculty was in the same boat. Dr Warren blushed. So far Mrs Main had been fairly discreet about the unusual set-up. God I hope they’re not students of mine; Donna was horrified at the thought.

“Dr Warren, you are not going to be difficult I hope,” the housemother said sharply.

“I really don’t think…” Donna began.

“Do you really want to spend Saturday doing corner time in lower stairwell that faces the front door?” Mrs Main words held stony conviction.

“But…” Donna’s eyes were wide and she looked pointedly at the two sorority girls facing the wall.

“You are a member of this house. You will obey the rules. That means you will now remove your skirt and panties and go stand next to Kelly and Maria.” The housemother enunciated every word.

Donna’s face flared red and she felt her ears melt. But after another short hesitation she began to fumble with her zipper and moved to obey.

*

Maria, the small Latino girl, took her spanking far more stoically than the blonde, Kelly. The taller girl had squealed from the first and before the spanking was half over had given out loud angry shouts at each impact of Mrs Main’s short paddle.

As the last of Maria’s spanking was concluded, some 15 minutes since it began, Kelly was still dancing on the spot as she sobbed her heart out in her place next to the as yet unspanked Donna.

Despite her predicament, the faculty member found herself regretting that she could not have watched both spankings, but the housemother had been quite explicit about what would happen if any of the girls took their nose from the wall.

Where Kelly’s spanking had been a noisy leg-kicking affair, Maria had just let out grunts as her breathing had become more and more laboured. It wasn’t until the end that she finally chuckled to a sob and had begun to cry.

“Quite a spanking on an already sore bottom,” Mrs Main said sympathetically, “You took it well.”

Maria got unsteadily to her feet and shook the sting from her heroic tail.

“Thank you Ma’am,” Maria said in a strained voice through her tears as she clawed at her bottom. “No disrespect Ma’am, but I get far worse at home, even now.”

Maria had no trace of her ancestors’ accent and was pure up State. Although that was somewhat challenged by her generous tears.

“I will bear that in mind next time,” Mrs Main chuckled.

Maria winced; sometimes she had a big mouth. And the part about next time was too close to certain for comfort.

“Now you two can go,” Mrs Main said cheerfully, “But mind me when I tell you I don’t like tattletales.”

Kelly was still crying for America, but nevertheless opened her mouth to ask what the housemother meant when Maria nudged her with an elbow and nodded at Dr Warren.

“No way,” Kelly said emphatically, her eyes bugging out of her head. The flow of her tears suddenly ceased.

Mrs Main frowned, not sure if that was a declaration of disobedience, but Kelly hastily drew her pinched fingers across her lips like a zip.

After they had gone Mrs Main turned her attention to Donna.

“What is it about obeying curfew you don’t get?” she said.

Donna turned around and found some courage.

“Mrs Main, please I have to be at meetings in the evening. It’s my job. I can’t always be here at ten. Now if…” she began.

The housemother sighed.

“Dr Warren, I happen to know you have been offered three separate alternatives to living here. I expect there have been other offers on top of that I don’t know about. Yet here you still are. I have to confess that the first time you and I had words I was genuinely in error, but it soon became clear to me that it was for the best.” Mrs Main formed a small wistful smile with her lips that just touched her eyes. Then it was gone. “While you live here you will obey the rules or accept the consequences.”

“But…” Donna blushed. The woman was right. Why hadn’t she just moved out? What was she looking for?

“Tell me, were you ever in a sorority?” Mrs Main appeared to change the subject.

“No I… not my thing really… I…” Donna was thrown.

“Ah ha,” the housekeeper said thoughtfully.

Then she turned and took up the small hand paddle she had used on Kelly and Maria. It was a harsher measure reserved for the diehards who persisted in testing her throughout the year. She knew now that Donna would be back again and again just as surely as the other two and three or four others in the house. It was always the way. Some girls were built that way and could not help themselves.

Donna, who had felt strange discussing sororities while naked from the waist down, shifted uncomfortably. But Mrs Main was ready for her. She flipped the doctorate-laden teacher firmly across her lap as expertly as she had any other resident of Carlton house and patted her exposed bottom with the small hole-drilled paddle.

“I will make you a deal Dr Warren,” she said, “I will strive to be discreet on your behalf if you make me a promise.”

The paddle came down hard and Donna’s eyes flew open in shock. The bite across her bottom was extreme and a whole new level of spanking.

“Do you hear me Dr Warren?” Mrs Main said spanking her charge again.

Donna could only growl angrily. Getting no answer the housemother brought the paddle down in four or five sharp blasts beginning at the crowns of Donna’s bottom and working on down to where the lecturer hoped to sit one day.

“Is that ‘no deal’ then Dr Warren?” the housemother scolded. “Do you think I was joking about putting you in the corner at the main doors?”

“What deal?” Donna wailed. There were already tears pooling at her eyes and her breathing was hard and ragged.

Mrs Main ran her idea through her head one last time. It suited them both not to undermine a member of the college’s authority.

“I will be discreet on your behalf, but if you have to go across my knee one more time then I will expect to see you once a week for a straightener regardless of your conduct,” she explained.

Donna would have said anything just then, but her mother didn’t raise any fools. This was insane.

“You mean…” she gaped, her throbbing bottom briefly forgotten.

“If you cross me one more time I will spank you once a week for the rest of your stay with us,” Mrs Main pressed her words home with a spank.

The housemother reasoned that whatever it was Donna was seeking, might be fulfilled by a regular spanking regime. Then these intermittent and hard to contain rule breaches might be kept to a minimum. After all, Donna was well able to keep out of trouble, but something in her kept bringing her back.

“This is crazy,” Donna gasped through an orgy of panting brought on by the swat.

But she reasoned, all she had to do was get organised and keep to the rules.

“Please just give me an extra half hour past curfew,” she pleaded.

Mrs Main had already contemplated and discarded that option. For one thing it set a dangerous precedent and risked disturbing the house at bed time. But what was clear to Main, if not Donna, was that the good Dr Warren would always come in just after curfew whatever time it was set at. The woman just needed it that way for some perhaps subconscious reason of her own.

“No,” the housemother said sharply and spanked down hard.

The volley that followed was an expression of anger at Donna’s stubbornness.

“Waaa,” Donna wailed, now resembling Kelly in her response to a spanking.

“Listen to me Dr Warren. Do you know what I do with persistent offenders? And you are a persistent offender. I spank them morning noon and night. I have many little public corners to put them in to take them down a peg,” Mrs Main rasped as she continued to spank, “Do you hear me?”

Donna was sure that she could keep to the rules. What did she have to lose?

“Alright,” she howled.

“Good,” Mrs Main said triumphantly. “Now where were we?”

The housemother brought the paddle down again with a will polishing Donna’s bottom to an astonished angry red bordered by rubbery welts. The holes she knew chaffed abysmally and had done much to contribute to the white dusting of distressed flesh that accompanied such a prolong spanking. But the woman’s bottom could take more. Much more and it was going to. Just to make sure Donna was incentivised not to comeback, tonight the paddle would do double duty before a healthy midnight stint in the corner.

Maybe she would add a reprise just to drive it home. After all the two sorority girls had been spanked on paddle spore; it was only fair.

By now Donna had completely surrendered. There was neither fight nor anger left in her and she hugged into her tormentor for some comfort even as the spanking continued. Deep down she sensed that Mrs Main was only doing this for own good.

More Abraham Heights stories here.